


The Coin

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [3]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Crack Crossover, Flashbacks, M/M, Mild Smut, Richelieu's first life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever they had didn't end in a big fight. That would've been too normal for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coin

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a few comments, talking about how the last fight between them must have been bitter to hurt them both so much. But these two fight and challenge each other all the time. This is more than that.

For Treville, a successful mission was a reason to be proud. All of his musketeers coming home more or less intact was a reason to be grateful. The King’s acclimation was a reason for embarrassed pride. The deep cut under his eye that would turn into a scar was a reason for honor.

However, there was one thing that trumped all this. Being laid out in Richelieu’s soft bed, the Cardinal pressing down on him, skin to skin, was a reason for joyous ecstasy. Privacy and security to let go was a gift.

Richelieu lay against Treville’s side. He pulled back from where he’d been nuzzling Treville’s neck. He touched the silver Roman coin laying on Treville’s chest. It was battered and stained and worn around the edge. It was attached to a thin leather string around Treville’s neck. “You still have the denarius,” he said, hoarse and reverent.

Treville let out a breathless chuckle. He trailed his hand up and down Richelieu’s back. “You gave it to me, didn’t you? A good luck charm to see me off.”

Richelieu rested his hand on Treville’s chest, over the coin. He trailed his lips along Treville’s jaw, up to his ear. His voice was low and rough. “I thought you would take it off the moment you left me.”

Treville’s breath hitched. “A coin that saw its owner through all of Caesar’s wars. Even if it’s just a story the merchant told you, it’s a good one.”

Richelieu nipped at Treville’s earlobe. “I thought you would take it better than a crucifix.”

Treville groaned. He tilted his head to the side to expose the side of his neck to Richelieu’s talented mouth. “You’d be right. In my experience, God is not to be found on a battlefield.”

Richelieu licked the expanse of skin. He clutched the coin. “Have you studied it? The goddess Roma on one side and the Dioskouri on the other.”

Treville shuddered in pleasure at the hot breath against his skin. His tongue tripped over the word. “Dioskouri?”

Richelieu continued touching Treville, worshipping Treville. “The heavenly twins Castor and Pollux. They helped the Romans in the Battle of Lake Regillus. It was the last battle to keep the kings expelled from Rome.”

Treville suddenly rolled Richelieu beneath him. He settled on Richelieu’s hips and planted his hands on Richelieu’s chest. He grinned. “Thanks for the lesson, but I admit that my mind’s on other things.”

Richelieu grabbed Treville’s hips. His eyes flashed. He licked his lips. “Perhaps, you are entitled to a reward for your services, Captain.”

A reward, Treville received. It was an intense, pleasant blur. It was heat, touch, and sensation. It was a joining of spirit as well as body.

Sometime later, Treville was sprawled out over Richelieu, half asleep. He felt Richelieu shift beneath him. He groaned and held on tighter.

Richelieu ran a gentle hand through Treville’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Jean,” he whispered fondly. “You will have me for as long as you want me.”

Treville woke with a start. He shot up to a sitting position. He was alone in his cot at the Musketeers garrison. He was hot, covered in sweat, and aching. 

Treville reached for the coin hanging around his neck. However, it wasn’t there. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to remember why.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the dead of night when he snuck back from the no man’s land in between the Roman lines and Alesia. He ducked into the tent and threw off the black cloak. He was dressed in a simple black tunic and black Gallic trousers. He was without the usual gladius. The only weapon he carried was a dagger. He went over to the basin and splashed some tepid water into his face.

Gaius Julius Caesar himself followed. He picked up the cloak and set it to the side. “Lucius.”

Lucius Julius Caesar washed the black soot off his hands. A not quite as battered denarius hung from his neck. “I made contact with Sextus.”

“And?”

Lucius grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water to start on the soot covering his face. “Sextus has infiltrated Vercingetorix’ war council.”

One end of Caesar’s mouth quirked up. “I’m not surprised. He’s made a rather splendid Gaul.”

Lucius went on. “The rations within the city are depleted. Many of the warriors are sick with hunger and they have no horses left to speak of. Still, I wouldn’t write off their cavalry completely.”

“I shall not make that mistake.” Caesar nodded grimly. “And we thought as much when they put their women and children out.”

“Half of them want to surrender but Vercingetorix still has enough personal prestige to carry the day.” Lucius wiped his neck. “They are planning a dual attack. The Gallic relief army will attack our outer fortification while Vercingetorix and his men attack from the city.”

“We’ll be ready for them.” 

Lucius glared at the towel, which was almost completely black. “We withstand them, we break their will completely.”

“That is what we will do,” Caesar stated with no room for doubt. He clapped a hand on Lucius’ shoulder. “Have some wine and food.”

Lucius frowned. “This stuff does not want to come off.”

“I think I can help with that, cousin.” Caesar chuckled. He grabbed the basin and dumped it over Lucius’ head.

“The Fortuna coin. I was wondering where that got to,” Aurelian said, amused.

Richelieu blinked and he was back in the present. He was sitting in his private office in front of the fire. He rolled the denarius between his fingers, from his index to his pinky and back again.

Aurelian took the seat next to Richelieu. He nodded to the coin. He was still smiling. “You took that everywhere on campaign.”

Richelieu continued to roll it between his fingers. “And I survived. Gaul. Egypt. The Middle East. Spain. I took it as a sign from the gods that this is a lucky talisman.”

Aurelian leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you still wear it around your neck?”

Richelieu sighed. He managed a small smile for Aurelian. “For the last ten years, Treville has worn it.”

Aurelian’s smile disappeared. His jaw dropped. “You parted with it? For him?”

Richelieu stared at the flames. He still rolled the coin between his fingers absently. “Yes,” he admitted roughly. “I know it’s foolish, but I had hoped to keep him safe.”

Aurelian studied Richelieu for a long moment. “The good Captain is alive and well. How do you come to have it back?”

Richelieu flipped the coin in the air and caught it. He held it securely in his palm. He didn’t look at Aurelian. “For ten years, no matter the quarrel, he always wore it. Then, after the debacle with the Queen, he sent it back to me with one of his Musketeers. No note. Just Porthos, waiting for a message to take back to his Captain.”

Aurelian took a deep breath. “And what message did you send back?”

Richelieu finally looked at Aurelian. His expression was neutral, except for his eyes. “I said that I would respect his wishes in this.” He shrugged helplessly. “He no longer wants me.”


End file.
